Belonging
by Ammanalien
Summary: Lorne observes Sheppard's team, and wonders where he fits.  Then events take a serious turn.... A little story where Lorne gets whumped.
1. Chapter 1

oOo

"I just - just - just... it's... no, y-y-you..."

Words. Stupid words.

He wanted to say a very specific and important thing, but it just wasn't happening. They were shushing him, humouring him. They knew what he was trying to say, and they wouldn't listen.

Something was very wrong.

Things were not working... _he_ was not working.

It seemed like only moments ago that he had been trading insults with Dr McKay. They were trudging back to the stargate, across a narrow piece of land bounded by swamp on each side. A mission with Colonel Sheppard and his team to find trading partners, had come to nothing, when no living soul had been found in this desolate place. Rodney was now and again slapping at his neck and bemoaning the species of mosquito residing on the planet. Lorne himself had seen no insects at all and was informing McKay of this fact, along with his concerns about the scientist's obvious paranoia.

It was not the first time he had accompanied this team off-world, but Evan had to admit to still feeling a bit of a newbie. They were tight, this group; McKay, in spite of plenty of evidence to the contrary, had proved himself to be as courageous, as he was smart; Teyla, enigmatic, a dangerous opponent, and totally out of his league (where had that come from?); Ronon, a man who had been running from the Wraith before Lorne even started basic training; and the Colonel, respected and trusted absolutely by all of them.

There was certainly no jealousy, but envy, maybe; _how cool would it be, to be in the coolest team?,_ he thought, smiling inwardly.

Lorne wasn't much of a talker, but he was a people-watcher. Sometimes he would just step back and simply watch their interactions, or like today... get in there and annoy one Canadian scientist.

The first hint he had, that something was amiss, was when he heard a sharp whine next to his left ear. His initial thought was, _so, there are mosquitos after all_. He brought up a hand to bat it away, and at that exact same moment, his legs folded up under him. As the sky wheeled across, dizzyingly, and the back of his head impacted the ground, he saw Ronon, like a giant, standing over him, blaster at the ready.

Strangely, there was no sound, and through eyes that were rapidly losing the ability to focus, he saw McKay and Teyla, moving with some purpose, it seemed. But it was confusing and he was on the outside, not involved; a spectator unable to participate.

He was lifted up, his stomach turned over and he retched drily. Arms and legs that were not his own, dangled and bumped.

He was trying desperately to fathom what had happened.

Was he sick? He felt sick, but he also felt a calmness and detachment that worried him more than anything else.

Had he been injured? There was no pain, he'd felt no impact. Obviously he was fine.

He needed to be up, doing his job. He hated to be weak, to show weakness. It was on his record, he'd seen it, _Major Lorne conducts himself professionally at all times._

His teeth were chattering... they _hurt_.

When had it gotten so cold? His head felt like it was filled with ice, and a numbness crept from it. It was a chill that came from within, and he couldn't comprehend it.

Sheppard's face was there, lips moving to say... something. Evan tried to respond, to ask, _what's happened?_

An enemy, maybe... were they under attack?

There were hands holding his head and he realised that he was now lying on his side, eyes blinking and stinging. The hands moved gently, across his eyes, again and again. It was soothing, and calming, and he knew almost at once it was Teyla.

"T-t-t..." _Teyla_, he tried to say.

She looked so sad... broken, he thought. Like someone had died.

Sudden panic filled him... _where are the others?_

As though in answer, a circle of familiar faces came into his blurry sight. Lips moving, faces animated... worried.

_Get up_, he told himself.

He wanted to move. His right side, that was pressed to the damp ground, was cold and senseless.

They needed to go, to get home, and they were waiting for... him.

They would all die because this soldier couldn't get his butt moving. That was unacceptable.

That was when he tried... tried to get them to leave him.

But they would not hear his pleas, incoherent as they were. They shook their heads... McKay looked furious... Teyla gently pressed her fingers to his cold lips, to silence him.

But he kept trying...

"G-g-g-go...", and he said it like it was the most difficult word he had ever said. It wasn't the cold, making him stammer that way, it was something else, something bad.

It was getting so hard to think; it was as if the connection his brain had with his mouth was totally fried, and all his mouth was good for, was drooling.

For the first time he thought of his own mortality and the possibility that he was dying.

Night was falling - and quickly - and Evan felt himself rolled gently onto his back, his head elevated onto something warm.

As the sky darkened it seemed to him that the faces around him grew brighter, leaned in closer. Then one by one they pulled away leaving just the face of Colonel Sheppard.

The world consisted of those steady dark eyes, unblinking within a pale face. Evan could not say if he heard the words or _felt_ them - perhaps by some weird near-death sense, but somehow in that stare and through the hands that held his face, he got what Sheppard was telling him.

"Major... you'll be okay... just hold on..."

And then, although the light had faded completely, and he wasn't sure if his eyes were open or closed, the last thing he heard was,

"Evan? That's an order! You're one of us... and we don't leave our people behind."

oOo

I don't know what Lorne's first name is.. hope y'all don't mind 'Evan'? I've seen it as Evan in some fics.


	2. Chapter 2

Bit of bad language and blood-shed ahead...

oOo

John Sheppard trailed his team across the dreary moor. A lazy wind was blowing, stirring up an unpleasant, 'boggy' smell that Rodney had already complained about.

There had been the odd life sign on this desolate world, but no human habitation to be seen. He'd called time, and they were now on their way back to the stargate, only a scant two hours after they initially came though.

In front were Ronon, on point; Teyla behind him; and just in front of John, a blustering Rodney McKay, engaged in a heated discussion with Major Lorne.

Yup, Lorne was with them today. It was good practice to rotate the teams a little, and anyway, they all liked the major, it was an easy mission, and Evan had been telling him he didn't get off world enough these days.

John smiled at his and McKay's banter; Lorne was kidding him along about something, but Rodney hadn't realised yet and was red-faced and fuming at the major. Evan Lorne could be quite the comedian when he wanted to.

He was a leader, no doubt about that; a conscientious soldier, not averse to a joke now and again, but he was focussed, perhaps more so than John himself. Where Sheppard at least appeared to be relaxed, Lorne had a serious front which his men responded to. Self-contained and level-headed, Evan Lorne exuded professionalism. In a tough spot, Lorne had a confidence that inspired total trust - something that even John himself found comforting.

One moment he was hearing the major laughingly accuse Rodney of being a girl, the next he heard a thwacking sound, Lorne's head seemed to jerk, and then... he was down.

_Crap..._

"Drop! Now!", he barked.

Teyla was crouched, all attention and grim purpose. Rodney was sprawled, having gone down in a heap, and was getting onto hands and knees, clutching his hand gun. Ronon was still up, scanning the periphery of the wasteland.

"One shooter. Gone already", he stated.

John yanked him down by his coat tails, and then they were both hovering over the motionless figure on the ground.

The major's eyes were open and fixed... he looked dead. John's fingers moved quickly against his neck, finding a rapid pulse. Blood was splattered across the soldier's left ear and up into his hair. Within the splash of red, was a tiny circle of black...

John's stomach lurched in recognition; he'd been shot in the head.

_Focus, Colonel_, he said to himself, aware that they could all still be in danger. He cast around, searching for suitable cover, somewhere they could tend to the major and assess the situation they were in.. Ronon instictively knew what he was looking for and nodded to a nearby huddle of scrawny looking shrubs.

"Let's move. Teyla... Rodney... cover us."

"Ronon?", and with no further bidding, the big man slid his hands under the soldier's arms. John took the legs and they shuffled quickly towards the area that was to be their refuge, heads down, with Teyla and Rodney behind, watching for trouble.

As they moved him, the major's head lolled slackly, eyes still open, unresponsive and white-faced. John couldn't tell if he was breathing, or indeed, if he was even still alive. Blood was running, sluggishly, down his neck from the bullet wound above his left ear.

They made their way clumsily over the rough ground, and when John turned his ankle painfully in a pot hole, the resulting sharp movement had Lorne gasping, the first real sign of life that they'd been given.

"Sorry, Major.. ", John hissed as he recovered his balance and continued, limping slightly on his twisted ankle.

They set him down beneath the canopy of the foliage, and John moved closer to his side, on his knees, rummaging in his pack for supplies.

Rodney dropped down, too, lowering his weapon and staring wide-eyed at Lorne.

"Oh my god... is that a bullet hole...? In his head? Is he- is he...?"

"No, he's alive", answered Sheppard, balling up a shirt and laying it carefully under Lorne's head.

Sheppard spoke quickly, "Lorne? Major? Can you hear me?", and he bent closer. Evan was now blinking owlishly, forehead wrinkling, appearing confused. His lips were moving slowly but he made no sound.

"He's seriously out of it...", and he shook his head worriedly.

Glancing up he was aware of Ronon and Teyla, standing restlessly and peering through the bushes, their eyes still scanning for trouble.

He nodded at Ronon's questioning look, and they both crept away to do a sweep of the area.

John turned back to his task to find Rodney, desperately searching though his own pack. He pulled out two sweaters and an emergency blanket. Only then did Sheppard become aware of a strange sound; the major was shivering uncontrollably, his teeth chattering loudly.

McKay threw the sweaters over their patient's legs, and then wrapped the blanket around as best he could, with visibly shaking hands. John grabbed Rodney's arm and held it in a firm grip. He searched the scientist's pale,worried face.

"Take it easy, Rodney. Stay calm, okay?"

The last thing they needed was another patient in shock.

"S-sorry", he said lowering his gaze and gulping, "It's just...", and his eyes strayed again to the side of Lorne's head, "...Just that... _God.. Jesus..."_

John could tell that McKay was really freaked.

"It'll be okay...", he said, not really believing it himself. With a bullet wound like that, Evan should be dead. Why he _wasn't,_ was a miracle to Sheppard, who had seen his share of head injuries in his time.

Ronon and Teyla reappeared. They crouched at the injured man's feet and watched as Sheppard made to carefully clean the gory head wound.

"Easy, Major... just cleaning you up a bit, okay, buddy?", not expecting a response, John set to his task.

"Whoever it was that did this...", and Teyla looked with compassion at the major."They are now gone", and she moved quickly up to Lorne's head and held it still whilst John used dampened gauze to clean the man's neck.

Ronon held up his hand, "Look."

It was a spent shell, and John could see immediately it was old and corroded.

"We found this... a long way out. That's why we never heard the shot. I'm certain there was only ever one of them... a parting warning to make sure we never returned, maybe...? ", and he shrugged.

This at least was a piece of better news; from such a distance, the bullet must have been almost spent. But it was cold comfort to know that the major was only still alive, because the bullet currently lodged in his skull had not penetrated as it should have.

"We may still lose him, I've seen it before. We have to get going..."

Sheppard had noticed with concern that blood was not the only thing leaking from the bullet wound; pale, clear fluid was glistening across his jawline, streaking down to his collar. Rodney's voice interrupted his thoughts...

"Shouldn't he be on his side? I mean... clear airway, and everything..", Rodney said nervously.

"Good thinking, McKay", and Sheppard was already rolling the unresponsive major's shoulders towards the kneeling Teyla.

He looked up towards the Satedan.

"Ronon? You and Rodney, keep watch for now."

Teyla had shuffled back a little, pulled up the pillowed shirt, and rested Lorne's right cheek against her knee. She reached across and took a fresh pad of gauze from John and set about wiping the major's eyes, the mixture of blood and fluid now dripping into them.

She looked over at John, and said, "We should cover this wound".

He nodded and dragged over another of their packs.

As she dabbed and swept the pad across, she realised the fixed eyes of the major were actually now fixed on... her. She drew in a breath as his eyes connected with hers and his lips moved, haltingly,

"T-t-t...", was all the man could stammer out.

"Sshh...", she admonished, "Do not talk... be strong".

John watched as she gently caressed his brow; it was chalk-white and sweaty, streaked with old blood.

Sheppard ran a hand through his hair...

What to do... Could they carry the injured man back to the gate? It was a good three miles away and over rough ground. They had no stretcher, no time to make one... No time... Someone could go for help, maybe? He sighed, retrieved a wrapped package from the kit. He unrolled the field dressing, quickly and expertly applying the bandage and tying it off.

As he lifted Evan's heavy head, with the help of Teyla, they exchanged a worried look; his eyes were blinking slowly but the right eye was sluggish, un coordinated. John quickly, but awkwardly, slid a hand into the right sleeve of Evan's jacket... the skin was cold. He pulled out a little, and grasped the soldier's hand... it, too, was cold and had a slackness that was anything but normal.

Sitting back on his heels, John beckoned Rodney and Ronon over, and said, "He's got no time for this."

"I'm no doctor, but this is some serious...", and he fumbled for the right words, settling for,"... _brain shit_."

_Good language, John_, he thought lamely; Rodney groaned.

"He's gonna die if we don't get help."

"I just - just - just... it's... no, y-y-you..."

All eyes looked down to find Lorne struggling to speak.

"What is he trying to say?", asked Rodney.

"I believe he thinks we are still in danger, and he is asking us to leave him.", Teyla said quietly, astounding them all with her intuition.

Teyla looked as close to tears as John had ever seen her, as she lay her long fingers gently against Evan's lips.

"No..", she whispered, shaking her head.

Rodney spluttered...

"What? He's as bad as you, Sheppard! We're going to _leave him behind_? Yeah, right..."

John purposefully ignored the ranting doctor, and spoke to the rest of his team.

"Alright.. Teyla... Ronon.. get back to the gate and... " He stopped, threw up his hands and sighed wearily, "_Hell_, you know the rest - just go now, I've delayed enough."

Teyla gently re-positioned Evan's face onto the make-shift pillow, and lay her hand on his cheek for a brief moment. Then she and Ronon left hastily, and John's attention was wrenched back to Rodney. He was still muttering away to himself.

McKay was upset; he was strung out and tired, but John couldn't afford any more hysterics.

"Rodney! Cool it... That's an order.", he said icily.

Evan still tried valiantly to speak, but it seemed that the ability to do so was slipping away, as his eyes grew duller, and his breaths more laboured.

"G-g-g-go.."

"Is he choking? Get him up!", yelled Rodney.

"What happened to 'on his side', McKay?", John asked, irritated.

"Well, I don't know... It just seems better now for him to be up", he finished, lamely.

Rodney ended with the major's head in his lap. He would probably grouch about it later, but right now he knew the score as well as John did; Lorne could have minutes to live, and they would make him as comfortable as possible.

Evan's eyes still roamed and it seemed to John that he saw and recognised Rodney leaning over him, but as his eyes shifted past the scientist, they appeared to fix onto things unseen, perhaps flicking around a circle of faces that were no longer there.

"..s'dark", he slurred, almost drunkenly.

Rodney's eyes met John's, looking puzzled; it was no darker now than it had been five minutes ago, in fact, the sun was trying to push through as the afternoon wore on.

This was not a good sign.

John leaned over, into Lorne's line of sight. The major blinked crookedly, and John saw no recognition. He spoke anyway, his hands on the man's face, willing him to hear.

"Major... you'll be okay... just hold on..."

At first, Sheppard thought with horror that the stuttering breath he heard next, was Lorne's final one, but then, out of the blue, after going totally limp, he watched helplessly as the man went into convulsions.

"Sheppard...?", squealed Rodney, his hands on the quaking shoulders. But John wasn't listening, he was shouting, his face only inches from Lorne's.

"Evan? That's an order! You're one of us... and we don't leave our people behind."

oOo

One more little chap to go. Sorry about the dubious 'brain shit'... I'm completely untrained... (pass me a scalpel)


	3. Chapter 3

oOo

John could tell they were torn; torn between dashing full pelt to the jumper, and walking carefully, as if on egg shells, to avoid bumping the injured man.

The jumper had arrived and had to 'park' some distance away due to the boggy and unstable ground. Over Lorne's now motionless body, John watched as the hatch dropped and five or six marines emerged and took up defensive positions nearby. Then Carson Beckett, carrying his doctor's bag and trailing a small med team, scampered down the ramp and across the narrow piece of land where he and Rodney still watched over their patient.

Carson was asking questions before he had even slid to a stop.

"Major, can you hear me? Answer me, Major.", he waited for a heart beat, but there was no response. His practised fingers were searching out a pulse, a pulse John already knew was weak and thready.

After the unnerving convulsions, Evan's body had gone limp, his expression dead and lifeless, much as it had been earlier. Sheppard's hands had reluctantly searched for a pulse, this time convinced the man was actually dead. But, miraculously Evan clung to life with a determination that was typical of the officer, and his heart continued to beat, albeit weakly.

There being nothing more they could do, he and Rodney had tried to make the injured man more comfortable; rubbing at his cold hands, tucking more blankets around him, talking to him as if he could hear them... even though it was highly unlikely that he could.

Beckett, however, tried again, this time in a louder voice.

"Major Lorne, answer me. That's an order, soldier!"

Nothing.

John had seen head injuries before.. had seen people die from them, some immediately, some later. Also seen people who had never recovered, their injury so severe, that although they lived, they were no longer who they once were, living an empty life, a burden to others; he would not call that living, and he felt sure the major would feel the same way.

If Lorne was to suffer a similar fate, then John found himself hoping - God forgive him - for a merciful end.

Carson inclined his head, peering closely, and then without ceremony, ripped the gauze from Evan's wound. The doctor made no comment or showed any emotion as he studied the oozing dark bullet wound, but he snapped instructions to the nurse beside him, and waved two men forward who were carrying a stretcher. A light appeared in the doctor's hand and it was flashed across first one pupil and then the other.

Setting the light down, he grabbed Lorne's hands and said,

"Can you squeeze my hands, Major?", but this time he did not wait for a response, he simply breathed a worried sigh.

John had said nothing, but Carson fixed him with a sharp look anyway, as if he had spoken, "I can't tell much yet. But .. it's serious, John..."

And then quieter, he said,

"Ye should be ready..."

It was then that Rodney made a choking sound and turned distraught eyes to Beckett.

"Come on, Rodney... buck up..", said Carson kindly, "It's not over yet...", and he patted McKay's shoulder gently.

Now turning purposefully to the colonel, Carson said, "John, would you get Rodney back to the jumper, and my team and I will see to the major?", the doctor rolled his eyes meaningfully from Sheppard to the obviously anxious scientist. John nodded slightly in understanding, and rising, took hold of McKay's arm.

"Time to go, Rodney."

With care, he and Rodney lay the major's head down, and then John helped McKay up, to stand on wobbly, cramped legs.

As they were leaving, Sheppard had a sudden thought, and he turned back to the doctor, motioning at the injured man.

"Doc, I should tell you... he had trouble speaking, made no sense... his right side was weak, cold... and he had some kind of seizure about ten minutes ago. Also, we think the bullet that hit him was almost spent, fired from some distance..."

Beckett's expression remained serious and he nodded at John.

"Okay...let's get him back home and under a scanner as fast as we can.", said Beckett, already turning away.

Now, looking back as he walked McKay to the jumper, John saw behind him the medical team descend on Evan Lorne. Wrapped like a mummy in blankets and with a newly applied white bandage obscuring his head, they transferred him carefully to a stretcher, and brought him, swinging gently towards the ship and to safety.

oOo

"He's been incredibly lucky, and I'm not just sayin' that. You were right Colonel, the bullet was almost spent, and after impacting the major's hard head, it had little or no energy left. It did punch a hole in his skull, caused some inter-cranial bleeding and allowed infection in. We removed the bullet, put in a small plate, but there should be no permanent brain damage. The symptoms you mentioned, like the aphasia, hemiplegia... "

Rodney grunted and shoved his elbow into John's arm. Sheppard leaned over and whispered, "Loss of movement...one side..."

"...were as a result of the bleed and accompanying pressure. Now that's gone, he should make a complete recovery."

It seemed like the whole room exhaled.

Perched on a gurney in one corner of the small room, Rodney swung his legs carelessly, punched Sheppard on the arm and beamed. Teyla exchanged a relieved look with Elizabeth, where they stood together in the doorway. Ronon sat back in his plastic chair with a satisfied growl, also smiling.

... and John Sheppard, rubbed at his bruised arm and thanked a God somewhere, that he wouldn't have a letter to write to bereaved parents.

"Now, don't misunderstand me... ", went on Beckett, "...he's still very sick, and we're treating him with strong antibiotics and anti-nausea drugs. But with time and rest he should improve steadily."

"Is he awake?", asked Elizabeth.

"Not yet. He's still under from the anaesthetic. He should be waking soon though... and before y'all ask...", and Carson's eyes twinkled around the small waiting room, where everyone looked at him expectantly.

"Ye _can_ sit with him_... one at a time_."

Another positive exhale flickered around the gathered team members, and Rodney hopped to the floor immediately, lap top tucked under his arm.

"I'll take first watch... I have some calculations to do that require absolute silence." he announced and disappeared round the corner. Elizabeth and Teyla left, after announcing they would bring coffee for everyone.

Carson approached John who had plonked himself down in a chair next to Ronon, his head in his hands.

"Are you okay, lad?", asked Carson, worriedly.

John raised his head and gave the doctor a genuine smile.

"Yeah, I am... It's just been one hell of a day. I'll drink my coffee and then I'll get some sleep. I promise...", and he tried to look sincere for the doctor.

"Make sure you do, lad... make sure you do", warned the doctor, smiling tiredly.

oOo

TBC and thanks for reading and reviewing!

Sorry this is a short chapter... more coming soon!

(Apologies again for medical inaccuracies.)


	4. Chapter 4

oOo

It was a bed; a narrow, blue, blanket-draped bed, and it was in the infirmary.

Set on its own, a pale blue rectangle, surrounded on all sides by box shaped clutter, some beeping, some flashing. People moved in and out of the frame. They were quiet, moving slowly, bending and straightening, and reaching high. Beeping boxes were wheeled in and beeping boxes were wheeled out; it was like the game where the squares moved, and you had to make the picture by sliding them one at a time. Now only a few remained, and a figure could be seen, seated at one side, immobile. A head bobbed up and then down again, hands busy. He seemed to be waiting for something; they were all waiting for something.

The shape in the bed had not moved yet. Evan wondered when it would. Who was it that everyone waited for? What had happened to him? A white bandage wrapped the man's head, his chest was bare, and from above, trailing wires attached to small patches of white, were easily seen.

"Good morning, Major", he heard. Three words... one, two, three. He didn't know what they meant, only that he had heard them. Someone was leaning close to the figure on the bed and then their hands reached for a hanging bag of liquid, and the line that dangled beneath.

Evan thought he heard a voice say, "Does Carson have fresh?", before a warmth stole over him, closing the window he had on the world, and he had no time to even wonder what the voice had meant.

oOo

It was the nice nurse; the one who brought him coffee the last time he was an unwilling patient in this place. Alright, it had been de-caf, but the thought was there and it was a nice one.

Calculations meticulously made, Rodney was now into his reports, a job he disliked and for which he definitely needed caffeine.

He stooped and felt around for the styrofoam cup he'd left around the chair legs. His fingers found it and fumbled around it's curve, and he knew then by it's bounce and easy tilt, that it was empty. Sitting up he watched as the nurse ran her hands down the major's arms, peering intently at his unconscious face, his eyes underscored with grey shadows, making him look tired and old. She rubbed his hands briskly, and in a voice that was all warmth and encouragement, she said,

"Good morning, Major."

Of course there was no reply. She sighed and Rodney thought she looked particularly grieved.

All at once she looked at him and smiled a small embarrassed smile, nodding at the man in the bed.

"Major Lorne... he's a special patient. Been here a lot... on and off. Always a real trouper, never complains..."

Her face fell suddenly as she remembered who she was talking to,

"Not that you... Doctor... I - well, you're not...", she blushed deep red and Rodney felt uncharacteristically sorry for her.

"Alright, alright, we already know I'm not a model patient. Don't worry about it..", and he managed a tight smile back at her.

She took a syringe from a tray, reached up and injected into the port slowly, her eyes darting from the line to Lorne, and back again, several times.

"Hang in there, you can do it...", she whispered, and Rodney wondered if it had been for Lorne's benefit or for hers.

A silence fell, then, and his thoughts turned to more pressing things.

"Does Carson have fresh?", and he held out his empty coffee cup, like the lazy geek he was.

oOo

He could hear... humming.

Someone was singing close by his left ear. It wasn't loud, just compelling and quite, quite beautiful.

The perfection of the moment was ruined, however, by a wave of nausea that seemed to start in his chest and threatened to blow off the top of his head.

Slowly he brought his breathing under control, as he panted through parted lips.

He exercised his eyes without opening them... squeeze shut, relax... squeeze shut, relax.

Upon the last relax he pried them open reluctantly.

An image appeared, blurred and too bright. His eyes narrowed and prickled with tears. A head and shoulders emerged, smudged but oddly familiar. His lips were forming words before he knew it.

"Do't stop... p-pretty.."

The head turned with a flash of red hair.

"Major? Can you hear me?"

Five words, he thought. One, two, three, four, five. Should make sense, but didn't. Somehow, though, he knew the words required a response.

"Tey-_huh_...", he heard himself say, and it was a struggle to even think about saying any more.

There followed then, a warm outpouring of words from the Athosian, too numerous to count and too complex to decipher. But he could feel the comfort in those words, felt it even more when Teyla took both his hands in hers.

He felt warm breath on his face as she whispered to him again, and her thumbs rubbed tiny circles on the back of his hands.

A light assaulted his eyes and he grimaced and tried to move away. A vice of pain wrapped itself around his head, and it was all he could do to keep himself from crying out.

Someone's hands descended firmly on his shoulders and more words were directed at him, he wondered why it was dark and then realised he had his eyes closed. Cautiously he opened them.

oOo

As she flicked through the shiny colourful pages of the book, Teyla found herself once again baffled by the ways of earth women.

A gate technician friend of hers had given her this most interesting magazine. From what she could make out, it contained instructions for food preparation and advice on clothing and grooming.

What mystified her, though, was the conflict that was evident between the food to be prepared and the advice given on personal appearance. A woman was encouraged to cook many sweet cakes and pastries, and then berated most severely for her resulting increase in stature. She was then to follow instructions detailing the use of a large ball for exercise, so preparing herself for several weeks of tortuous starvation, presumably until the next edition of the book could instruct her what to do next.

She shuddered and lay the book down carefully, as if it was suddenly distasteful.

Her eyes strayed to the man lying motionless in the bed. Well, not quite motionless... his chest rose and fell, and it did so of its own accord, without those machines that Carson sometimes had to use.

Evan's left hand lay palm up on the blue coverlet. A narrow tube carried liquid to the crease inside his elbow. The skin there was white, turning to cream and then to warm brown as she angled her head to see the upper side of his tanned forearm, pressed to the sheet. Carefully she turned the slack hand, his fingers meshing with hers. The skin of his wrist was paler than the surrounding skin, a perfect shadow of the time piece he usually wore there.

Chair legs hissed across the floor, as she drew closer to the bed. She put her chin to her hand, feeling the softness of the bed beneath her elbow, the other hand still held onto his.

She wanted him to wake; to turn his face to hers, to show her that slow, amused, twitch upward of the mouth, that wasn't quite a smile; she wanted to see the wide, lop sided grin, that would perhaps light his face when he saw that it was her.

Her eyes closed and in her head she began to sing. It was a cradle song of Old Athos, repetitive and simple. It always reminded her of her mother, and the short time they had been together.

Smiling to herself, her musings became a soft humming. Unconsciously she stroked up and down his warm fingers...

"Do't stop... p-pretty..."

It was weak, full of air and desperation, but it was his voice.

Her head whipped up and around, and in an instant she was on her feet, searching the face before her. His eyes were open, in a face that was slowly returning to a more healthy colour. Tears were leaking from the corners, and darkening his eye lashes. She could see him try to focus, swallow thickly and then give a low moan.

"Major? Can you hear me?"

There was confusion written on his face, although she felt sure that he had heard her.

She turned and hailed a passing nurse.

"Please bring Dr Beckett." she asked, hope lifting her spirits.

"Tey-_huh_", said the major, exhaling heavily on the last syllable.

"Welcome back, Evan. We have been waiting for you. Lie still, Dr Beckett is on his way.", and she worked at both his hands with her own, hoping that she would feel a response. She glanced down, but his hands lay still, clasped in hers.

"You are safe, and you will soon be well", she whispered.

Then, Carson was there, with a ready smile and the tiny light he often used.

"Now then, lad.. I need you to open yer eyes for me..", and Teyla watched as the doctor played the light across Evan's face.

The major grimaced and moved his head; colour drained from his face, and he shuddered.

"Lie still, now... you'll give yerself a worse headache", Carson patted at the major's arm and gave a knowing look to Teyla, as she waited anxiously.

"He's doin' as well as he should be, and that's good news. I'll go and call Colonel Sheppard... will you be okay here for a moment?"

She realised that the doctor was watching her closely, and that she had only paid attention as far as the 'good news' part. But then a huge smile lit Carson's face.

"What am 'a sayin'? Of course you will... he couldn't be in better hands."

oOo

TBC and thanks for your reviews, they mean a lot. This fic is growing longer, as they often do... thanks for sticking with me!


	5. Chapter 5

Just a short chap... more on its way.

oOo

"Major Lorne? Can ye open yer eyes for me?"

"I need to know you can hear me, Major. Open your eyes."

oOo

_"Open your eyes."_

Four syllables; three words; an order... directed at him, he was sure of that. He was also sure it was Beckett speaking. He still felt a hand in Teyla's warm grasp and it was comforting. Whatever the words meant he ought to respond, let them know he wasn't out for the count yet.

His mouth was dry, tasted like old blood and antiseptic, but he managed a few words.

"Good... to be back, doc...", and he opened stinging eyes to bright light and indistinct shapes.

More words came back at him then, tumbling into his consciousness, but meaning little.

Raising his free hand to his head he had just enough time to detect bandages and a flare of sharp throbbing pain, before his hand was caught by a blurry shape at his right, and redirected to lie back at his side.

It was Dr Beckett, standing by the bed, smiling down at him, still holding his wrist loosely. The doctor spoke several words, then patted his hand. Evan saw him glance across the bed and nod slightly, continuing to speak. Lorne dragged his head around to the right and the face of Colonel Sheppard loomed up. He, too, was speaking, a grin on his face. Beyond him, seated on the bed was Teyla, looking as serene as ever.

Evan felt his brow wrinkle; how was it he could hear them but couldn't understand them?

He'd been injured, knocked out maybe, but he was recovering; he knew the people around him; remembered his own name; knew that this was the infirmary of Atlantis and that his Mother's name was Evelyn.

The first tendrils of fear tugged at him as he slowly realised that whatever had happened to him, it was affecting his mind.

His heart picked up its pace, beeping out its alarmed rhythm on the monitor. His eyes darted back and forth, his breathing rough.

Beckett had lost his smile and was now frowning at him, worriedly. The physician looked questioningly at him and then bent to snap his fingers first next to his left ear and then next to his right.

_So, Beckett thinks I'm deaf?_

Evan waggled his head, _no_.

"Can.. _hear_ you. Don'... _un'stand_... you.", he explained slowly.

Beckett's expression froze for a split second and then seemed to soften slightly, and he locked his eyes with Evan's and nodded reassuringly. Evan watched as the doctor brought a finger to his lips and breathed a shushing sound. He placed his hands together palm to palm, tilting his head. Then he laid his hands beneath his right ear, closing his eyes for a moment, and pointing a finger in his patient's direction.

He said just one word and although Evan did not recognise it, he knew its meaning; rest, sleep, take it easy, don't worry.

And so, as Beckett stood back, an empty syringe in his hand, Evan Lorne slept.

oOo

"It's not uncommon to have some delay in perception. I think he will improve, and we should all be ready to support him through this."

Beckett had brought them all to a quiet corner of the infirmary, away from the sleeping major. Rodney had joined them, along with Ronon, who had obviously come straight from the gym. Rodney sniffed and made a face as the Satedan came to slouch next to him, arms folded. McKay was nursing an empty coffee cup, and looked dejected.

"But he can speak, Carson, and he is making good sense", said Teyla, sounding tired and worried.

"Aye, love, but they're actually two very different skills, governed by different parts of the brain.", explained the doctor.

Rodney had crept up behind Beckett as he spoke, and was now quietly filling his coffee cup from Carson's jug.

"Is there anything we can do to help?", Sheppard asked, giving Rodney a disapproving glare.

"Well, you could talk to him... read to him. Although, really, the brain will heal in its own good time anyway."

Sheppard looked around at his assembled team and gave a tired but satisfied grin.

"We can do that... can't we?"

And there were nods from everyone. Carson smiled and turned to go, but he had a parting comment for the scientist, who was gulping loudly, nose in his coffee cup.

"..and bring your _own_ coffee next time, Dr McKay."

oOo

I'm not a neuro-surgeon... can you tell? Hope it doesn't detract too much!


	6. Chapter 6

oOo

" ...which are even more indicative of the modern style."

Teyla sighed and lay down the heavy book. She looked across at Ronon who reclined in a chair that was woefully inadequate for a man his size. His long legs were stretched out and his arms folded. His eyes were closed.

"I hope this is helping...", she murmured to herself, feeling rather discouraged.

"He's asleep, Teyla. You could... I dunno... wait till he wakes up", growled Ronon.

She looked sharply at him, surprised at his flippancy, and then gave him a hard stare.

"You, Ronon Dex are picking up the habits of our team mates... and it does not suit you."

She pointedly picked up her book, cleared her throat and continued.

Ronon smiled, satisfied, and went back to his dozing.

"In this work, as in many of his others, sharp lines and jagged forms are thrown into contrast with unbounded and unquantifiable space, leaving us with a sense of loneliness, war and apocalypse..."

oOo

"What are you trying to do? Give him a relapse?"

Rodney and Sheppard arrived just as Teyla was reaching the end of post-war modernism, and McKay felt sure that apocalyptical images were the last things Lorne should be thinking about.

"Dr McKay, I am unsure of what I am reading. The words are... difficult for me, as you can imagine. But I was assured by Dr Biro that this was a book Major Lorne would enjoy. She had heard of his interest in painting."

She held up a huge, dusty tome, bound in gray linen and faintly embossed with silver lettering. What it was doing on Atlantis, Rodney could only wonder at.

"But... I also have this-", and she lay down the book and held up a glossy magazine. "It has many tasty food items and interesting points of view"

Rodney quickly scanned the highlights: "Lose 10 lbs eating Cabbage" , "100 ways with Muesli" and the promise of a ten page pull-out on the menopause.

He made a face and discarded it hastily onto a nearby bed.

"Oh... no... I think not. We don't want to turn him into a woman..."

"Well, what have you brought doctor?", she challenged him, sticking on a sweet and very fake smile.

Rodney beamed proudly and displayed a blue and white pamphlet.

It was snatched away by a very quick John Sheppard, who danced it around the room with McKay in pursuit.

""The Spread of Malaria in Temperate Climates: A Study"?", he read with difficulty, "Who would even _own_ a thing like this?", Sheppard chortled.

"I think you're forgetting Major,", answered McKay, snatching it angrily back, and smoothing out the wrinkles against his chest, as he hugged it tight.

"Half the scientists here are biologists, many of them my _personal_ friends..."

Sheppard rolled his eyes at that and Teyla grinned.

"... I simply want to finish our argu- discussion on biting insects."

"What about you Ronon?", asked Sheppard, and they all looked expectantly at the big man.

He shrugged, "Don't look at me. I got nothing"

Sheppard pulled up another chair, plonked himself in it, and withdrew a book from his zippered jacket.

"You just take your little offerings away. What he needs to hear about is outdoorsy, manly stuff... like-"

And he thrust a small paperback at McKay, who tilted his head to read the title.

"'Improve your Back Swing with Lee Trevino'" How _old_ is that thing?", scoffed Rodney.

"Tried and tested, McKay... tried and tested", he crowed.

Before McKay could get off a suitable reply, a single breathy word arose from the blanket-draped figure in the bed, "Hey..."

Immediately, they all gathered closer. Their relief and pleasure at seeing the major awake, was palpable.

"Are you - okay?", and Sheppard grinned, gave a thumb's up and threw the major a questioning look.

Lorne sank down onto his pillow, closed his eyes for a moment and then came back with,

"I'm fine, sir. Thankyou"

"What did he say? He's fine? Do you think he really is?, asked McKay, in a loud whisper.

"McKay! He's right in front of you, you know.. did you not hear him?"

"Yes, but do you think he even knows what he's saying? He looks a bit out of it...", he looked dubiously at the major, whose eyes were closed again; he was breathing heavily. Rodney thought, though, that on the whole he looked better; certainly, he looked good for someone who'd been at death's door only days ago.

"He's just tired, is all. Maybe we should.. you know... start.", Sheppard suggested

"What if he doesn't get what we're doing? He'll think we're crazy... sitting around spouting 'roobarb, roobarb' like Mr Rogers on dope."

"We have to try, Rodney. It's for Lorne, right? He'd do it for us.", said John.

"I guess you're right..."

A wicked grin suddenly appeared on the scientist's face, "You know we could say anything we wanted to him... he wouldn't know..!"

The colonel's sigh was long-suffering, "McKay, you are so juvenile..."

Rodney drew himself up to come back with a biting retort but Sheppard beat him to it.

"Also, McKay, Mr Rogers would _never_ do dope. King Friday wouldn't let him..."

"Oh, 'Ha!'... funny..."

"Gentlemen! Please remember why we are here", pleaded Teyla, as she helped Lorne sit up against a stack of pillows. He was still looking bewildered, absently he started picking at a loose strand of bandage at his ear.

Rodney saw it and immediately advanced on the bed.

"No.. no... no...", he said loudly, with vigorous shakings of his head.

"No... Bad... for... head... BAD!", and this time he waggled a disapproving finger at the major, who seemed to sink further back into his deep pillows.

"McKay!", snapped Sheppard," He's not a dog!"

Rodney shrugged apologetically, and said, "Sorry..."

"Now, everyone..", and Teyla beamed sweetly around the gathered team mates.

"Who will be first?"

oOo

"Ooh... this is a good bit... "da... dee-da, dee-da... and this would constitute the ideal environment for the species to proliferate, as shown by- da, da, dee-da - and also by the mean values, suggesting that non-standard growth factors, due to differentials in the UV spectrum, produce-"

"Oh, _God! _Kill me now...", Sheppard whimpered, his head in his hands.

Ronon was sitting cross-legged on the bed adjacent, shoulders hunched and bowed over, obviously reading something to himself... he had two fingers stuck in his ears.

Rodney had been reading for only twenty minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. Teyla was fetching fresh water for the patient, a job that was taking her a very long time... so long in fact, that one could have thought she didn't want to return. Evan was dozing, in and out, and it wasn't clear if he could even hear what was being said. But he looked up with a weak smile when Teyla returned.

Rodney droned on about 'insect larval forms' and 'average rainfalls', and Sheppard was glad when Ronon took the fingers from his ears and threw him a question.

"Hey...Sheppard... 'Brazil'? ...on your home world, is it?"

"Yeah, it's a warm place.. they grow coffee there."

"And they're strong warriors... the people of Brazil?"

"I guess so... some of them, anyway", John looked bemused.

"Well, next time we're on a mission, I need to get one."

"Get one what?"

Ronon stabbed a finger down onto the page of the magazine in front of him, "Listen: "When going on a trip it is now becoming popular and desirable to get a Brazilian..-""

There was a huge spluttering cough from Lorne and his arms and legs flew up, the bed sheets in disarray. Teyla quickly went over and tried to calm the man, who looked like he was choking. She offered him a beaker of water with a straw.

Once he had made sure Lorne was okay and not having some kind of seizure, Sheppard gave Ronon an amused look.

Ronon just dead-panned, "What..?"

"Tell ya later, big guy...", John assured him, with a chuckle.

McKay, though, had stopped reading and was tapping at his chin, deep in thought. A moment later he rose, kicked back his chair and stalked up to the bed; he glared at the major, who just blinked up at him, his face still flushed, his mouth _twitching_...

Rodney stood back, folded his arms, and said,

"Okay, how long have you been able to understand us?"

There was a collective gasp, and all eyes turned toward the man in the bed.

At first it seemed as though Rodney was mistaken. The major looked puzzled and had a 'who me?' kind of expression, but he obviously couldn't keep it up and so, after a long moment, during which the faces of everyone present grew ever more suspicious, the facade collapsed and he gave a sheepish smile.

"Well... long enough. I'm sorry, I wanted to tell you, but then I got so I was kinda enjoying it. And it did help me get through the afternoon."

There was an uncomfortable silence; McKay was trading sideways glances with Sheppard, obviously wondering if he'd said anything incriminating; Ronon was swinging his long legs over the side of the bed, looking amused; Teyla just looked relieved.

"Sorry, guys", Lorne tried again

"Well... I for one am glad that you are recovered, Major...", Teyla assured him.

"...and I'm sure that's how everyone else feels too?"

"Yeah... sure..", John smiled, nudging McKay in the ribs, when he saw the scientist resume his poisonous glare.

"Besides, it's good to know you have a sense of humour, Major. It will most likely come back to haunt you on our _next_ mission", said John winking, knowingly.

oOo

"Hey, Teyla... "

Evan yawned widely, and rubbed his eyes. The infirmary was quiet. The rest of his team mates had gone.

"...still here?"

"I am", she answered simply. The art book was lying open on the bed at Evan's side, and Teyla, perched on the edge of an infirmary chair, was bending over it.

"I must have dozed off - again.", he muttered.

"You need your rest.", she said, and her tone was understanding.

They both looked down at the book.

"What do you think?", he asked, hesitantly.

Teyla drew a hand across the image on the page; it was a painting of a night time scene, and Lorne knew it well.

"This is a picture of your world?", she asked.

"A part of it... many years ago" ; Edward Hopper's 'Nighthawks', was one of Lorne's favourites.

"It is about loneliness, is it not?"

His eyebrows lifted, and he nodded.

"Impressive... we'll make an art critic of you yet. It shows the loneliness of modern life that we all suffer, I guess"

Teyla considered this for a moment, then said,

"We would have stayed, you know."

He met her warm gaze with his own.

"Yeah, I guess I know that now"

For a few seconds they regarded each other in silence, then Teyla said, turning the book to face him,

"Show me more..."

oOo

The End

Thankyou for your patience! Your reviews have been so great, I'm obviously not the only one who craves Lorne fic... xxx


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